


I burn, I pine, I perish.

by Fanfic_or_bust



Category: Runaways (TV 2017), gertchase
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, Pining, Pre-Canon, Prompt: Chase screenshots Gert's snapchat and freaks out when he realizes she can tell, Repressed Feelings, September/early Oct senior year, Set pre 1x01, but how can you write pre-1x01 Gertchase without angst?, this was meant to be light and fluffy, withheld love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 02:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13940769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanfic_or_bust/pseuds/Fanfic_or_bust
Summary: It's early-on in senior year, Chase doesnt yet know his parents are murderers and everything is status quo. The old Pride kids had separated years ago, Chase was acting like the king of the assholes (and the lacrosse team), he hated himself, and he loved Gertrude Yorkes. What else was new. He admires her from afar but refuses to reconnect... for her own good. Then one day Brandon comes up with this hack to let him save snapchats without alerting the sender, and Chase takes full advantage every time Gert posts a selfie. Until one day he screws up and she gets a notification, and Chase freaks out.Or, my fic with insight as to the state of Gert and Chase's relationship just prior to 1x01.





	I burn, I pine, I perish.

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a prompt I got in my tumblr (if anyone has any more, hit me up at @kelbottumbles!) where someone asked me to write a pre-1x01 (or AU) where Chase realized Gert could see when he screenshotted her selfies. I meant this to be light and fluffy and cute, but it ended up being super introspective and angsty!
> 
> This ended up being my way to explain where Gert and Chase's relationship was prior to the start of the series. So obviously, it had to be angsty! 
> 
> Stay tuned at the end, because I have a headcanon to add!
> 
> Thanks for reading!

              “Dude, whose ass was that? You skipped it so fast!” Brandon asked, grabbing Chase’s arm, pulling his phone towards him so he could see, but the snap was already gone. Chase had tapped the screen the second he saw what it was, making the picture disappear forever (except from the archive Chase’s assigned FBI agent was keeping on him, of course). Chase fought back a wave of annoyance as he grabbed his phone back, narrowing his brows as he did. He hadn’t realized Brandon was paying attention, or he wouldn’t have opened it to begin with. Chase felt his temper flare, as it often did with these guys, but he tried to focus on the fact that he was fortunate Brandon’s eyes were on his phone, and he didn’t see the full-on eye-roll Chase had done the second he’d seen the pic.

              “Eiffel’s at the gym.” Chase replied in explanation, and he hoped his boredom wasn’t too apparent in his voice. But Chase didn’t have to worry, Brandon and Lucas were about as perceptive as a bag of rocks.

              “What the fuck, man!? Screenshot that shit! That’s wank-bank material right there.” Brandon replied, and Chase tried not to throw up where he sat. Was it normal to _hate_ your friends so much? Or was this just a private circle of hell that Chase had built only for himself? But, then, if his friends were unpleasant to be around, wasn’t that only _just_? After the way he’d abandoned her…

              “She’ll send more.” Chase replied, because he had to. Because if he didn’t at least try to play along, they’d turn on him like sharks that smelled blood in the water. Also, it was true. Eiffel was obsessed with herself, and obsessed with _showing_ herself, to Chase. She sent scantily-clad gym or dance snaps to him every single day and he was so goddamned bored of it by now, he wished he could just tell her to stop.

But again, he couldn’t because he had to keep up the façade. Because for the next 8 months, until he could run away to a College far away from these people, he was still in high school. And in high school, Eiffel was the “hottest”, most popular, most _powerful_ girl around. And by every law that John Hughes had ever written into existence about high school, it was dictated that if she showed interest in him, he was expected to return it. Even if he didn’t want to. Because this was the hole he’d dug for himself. He was the alpha dog on campus, he was the star lacrosse player that had brought in two championships, the guy that girls wanted to date and guys wanted to be. And he hated himself. But that was beside the point.

“Plus you can’t let her get too high on herself, she’d see the screenshot notification and think she was hot shit. Even if she is, you have to keep her down a few pegs, keep her under control.” Lucas said from next to Brandon, and once again Chase fought the urge to vomit. And punch him in the face. Faking it with these guys used to be easier, when the pain from Amy’s death had still been so raw in his heart. But as it faded, so did his tolerance for their bullshit. It was easier then, to lose himself in this new identity he’d formed for himself. He’d always been popular, going back to middle school simply because he’d been good at sports and moderately good looking, but he’d never stepped into the role that was seemingly there for the taking, because his friends, his _real_ friends, had kept him grounded. But when they splintered, Chase had fallen down the rabbit hole.

He hadn’t dealt with his grief, and when Wilder hadn’t shown up for her funeral, it seemed to Chase like everyone was just going to run away from the problem like it didn’t exist, so Chase had run too. He’d ran right to the vapid, popular kids that were more than happy to invite him to parties and shove drinks in his hands, even at that young age, and he’d escape all his troubles in a whirlwind of alcohol, girls, and bench-presses.

And that was his life now. In the day, he’d force all thoughts from his mind by surrounding himself with chattering idiots, or by training hard on the field or in the gym. At night, he partied and drank to forget. It worked out pretty well, for the most part. The problem was the bits in between. The quiet times he couldn’t run from his thoughts, and he’d think about how much he hated himself. And then inevitably he’d think about Gert, and then he’d hate himself even more.

It was about then that he’d usually send a text or a snap to one of the guys, or to Eiffel, or whoever. He’d shrug back on the mantle of ‘Chase Stein’, and pretend until the dark thoughts went away. The ritual became habit, though for some reason these past couple months, ever since he’d run into Gert at Wholefoods over the summer and his crew hadn’t been there, and for this tiny bubble in time it seemed like the _old_ them, Gert and Chase, together again… ever since then, things had been harder.

The mantle wasn’t sitting right, the crown felt heavy on his head. “Dude that’s seriously fucked up.” Chase said in reply to Lucas, because he felt he _had_ to say _something_. That’s what Gert would do. Except Gert wouldn’t have said it nearly so light heartedly. But Chase didn’t have the nerve to add any bite to his words, so he said them like a joke, and Brandon snorted a laugh beside him.

“You losers haven’t heard of the snapchat hack?” He asked pretentiously, reaching for Chase’s phone, but Chase snatched it away in time.

“I’m not downloading any of those apps, they’re full of spyware and shit.” He replied.

“I’m not talking about an app. Bro, you really haven’t heard about the snapchat hack?” He asked, and Chase rolled his eyes.

“Well are you going to fucking share with the class?” Chase asked, and Lucas nodded beside him.

“Fine! Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Brandon replied, glaring at Chase, but it was soon replaced with a smile as he got back on track. “So you know how when you screenshot a pic, it sends them a notification? Well, if you hold down the button until after the snap ends, and let go once it’s over, it saves the pic but doesn’t send them the alert.” He explained, and Chase raised his eyebrows. _Interesting_. Beside Brandon, Lucas seemed to be losing his mind.

“Why didn’t you say anything, bro?! Do you know how many tit shots I could have saved?” He complained, and Chase laughed.

“Oh, you mean zero, because _nobody_ is sending you any?” He asked, joking, and Lucas stood up and tried to punch Chase’s shoulder, but he dodged it, and they ended up playfully(?) fighting until the warning bell for fourth period rang.

 

\--------------------------------------

 

 

It was later that evening, on one of those unfortunate nights where there was no social gatherings to distract him from his thoughts. He’d done his calculus homework, and to distract himself he’d even attempted to work on his Spanish project, though he put that down after writing only a few sentences. He was currently bored out of his mind, stuck in his room, because his dad was home, and he didn’t want to risk running into him at all.

Chase’s thoughts were running dark tonight. Sadness and self-loathing were at a high, so he did what he always did when he was feeling bad about himself… he made it worse. And so he was on his eleventh play-through of Gert’s snap story. Every viewing ripped open the wound anew, the gaping hole in his chest where his old best friend used to be. Though to call her a best friend was kind of selling her short. She was the love of his life. But she was too good for him.

He used to think that one day they’d fall in love and end up together, but the older he got, the more he realized he didn’t deserve her and it was better he pushed her away, let her live her better life without him. He had Victor Stein’s blood in him, he had to protect her from what he could turn into one day. And besides, he’d lost his chance with her when he’d abandoned her when she needed him the most. And now she hated him, thought he was an idiot. Which was probably for the best.

She was right. He was.

He’d casually dated a few girls over the past two years (though he’d patently refused to get serious with _anyone_ , even Eiffel. He was known for it, actually, which he was fine with), lived a completely separate life from her, but still he thought of her. Still he loved her. He couldn’t help himself from keeping an eye on her from afar. He quietly noticed her and admired her throughout the years, though she didn’t know it. He watched as she dyed her hair purple and _evolved_ into this fantastic, passionate activist. She’d always been amazing, always cared about everyone and everything more than herself, at one point including him, but she’d really stepped it up in the last couple years. He admired her tenacity, her ambition, and even her thick skin as assholes like his friends called her names or knocked flyers out of her hands. Most of all, he admired her ability to follow her convictions and make _actual_ change in the world.

Chase felt powerless to make change. His big plan was to just ride out high school and then just never look back. And was he keeping his ear to the ground? Trying to catch word of where Gert was going to college, thinking if he ended up in a similar part of the country it wouldn’t be so bad? Yeah, maybe he was. Chase didn’t really care _where_ he went, really, as long as it wasn’t _here._ Though, if he was being honest, he’d always dreamed of getting into MIT, ever since he was a little kid and got his first k’nex kit for his birthday. From Gert, of course. She’s the one who’d told him about the robotics program there, too. Of course.

He’d been working on his fistigons for the past two years, in hopes that they’d earn him a place at the prestigious tech universtity. And it had _nothing_ to do with the fact that he knew Gert had always dreamed of attending Harvard. The fact that they were both in Massachusetts was a complete coincidence. A really, really convenient coincidence.

Chase was on his twelfth viewing of Gert’s snap story, now. Things were getting bad. But there was this one just _gorgeous_ selfie he was kind of obsessed with but she frustratingly had timed it to disappear after only three seconds. So it would end, and then he’d tap the screen a few times, skipping past the other pics, so he could cycle back to the beautiful picture of Gert. Every time he saw it, he felt this sensation. It was both wonderful and painful, like Peter Pan fairy dust in his chest, lifting him up, and a swift punch to his gut, pulling him back down. But he was masochistic enough to want to keep doing it to himself. _Because that face._

After watching the picture disappear for the twelfth time, and chickening out on screenshotting it for the twelfth time, Chase suddenly remembered what Brandon had been mentioning earlier that day. Usually, Chase tried to forget everything Brandon said about as quickly as he said it, but he had been intrigued by the idea of a secret screenshot in snapchat, even if it was for entirely different reasons than the other guys. He didn’t want to save secret pics of Eiffel’s ass or tits, but he’d kinda sorta _love_ a folder of Gert’s selfies. And she _never_ posted any pics of herself to insta, where he could screenshot anything without her knowing. It was always aesthetic stuff, or inspiring quotes, or pics of _other_ people. He still loved her posts, but every time he’d see a notification that she’d posted (yeah maybe he had her set to notifications), he’d always hope it would be a picture of _her._ And it never was.

So, _lucky number 13_ , he thought, as he tapped to start her story again. A pic of Molly with a cat filter, a pic of her latest protest flyer, a pic of the city from the hills where they lived looking hazy, captioned “this snap brought to you by: smog”. And this was it. The next pic was the selfie. He positioned his fingers over the home and the sleep buttons, ready. He wasn’t going to chicken out. This was going to work. Surely Brandon had tested it out and it worked. She’d never know. _She’d never know._

And so when the gorgeous pic showed up of her smirking and flipping off the camera, purple hair shining in the sun, light glaring off her glasses but not obscuring her amber-brown eyes that looked confidently ahead, like she was looking right _at_ him, he squeezed his fingers and held them until the picture disappeared. Just to be safe, he kept the buttons pressed until the entire story had ended, and when it was back to the main page, only then did he let his fingers go.

Immediately when he was done, he opened his gallery and tapped on the newly captured screenshot. And there she was. Gert in all her smirking, powerful glory, giving him the middle finger and giving him the flutter-gut punch feeling all over again. But this time, the picture didn’t disappear. So he sat there for far too long, gazing at it, studying her face because he didn’t get many chances these days to really _look_ at her, for any length of time at least, and _God he missed her._

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

It was a week and a half later. Gert had posted six pictures of herself over the past ten days, and Chase had secretly screenshotted every single one. And Gert hadn’t said anything to him, so he thought he was in the clear. Sure, he’d caught her looking at him a few times at school, much more than usual actually, but she caught him looking at her all the time, too. Though he had to admit these looks seemed more confused and laced with longing than her usual derisive glares she’d shoot at him when she’d catch him watching her. But that didn’t mean anything. He was probably imagining it.

It was a Tuesday night and there was nothing going on. Chase had finished his homework and had been tinkering with the reflector sockets on his fistigons for most of the evening, occasionally taking breaks and self-sabotaging by opening his ‘Gert’ folder (labelled ‘College stuff’) and flipping through the pictures for the thousandth time. He sighed as he looked at her eyes, her smile, the soft lines of her face. And even though she was only a ten minute drive away, that distance suddenly felt like a million miles. He thought about texting her, but instantly brushed the idea aside. She wouldn’t want to talk to him. And if she did, he should protect her from where that could lead. Nothing good would come of them talking right now, he’d only end up hurting her.

Yes, he occasionally in his weakest times sent her texts at 2am. Yes, sometimes when he’d drank too much or was feeling particularly sad, he’d send her snaps, sometimes with captions that said ‘miss u’ or ‘wish you were here’. But only when he absolutely couldn’t help it. When _not_ hitting ‘send’ would tear him to shreds so he just _does it._ But he only did it during those quiet, almost mystical-feeling hours between 2 and 4 in the morning, when it was hard to be sure whether it was even real or just a dream. But those were his deepest, darkest, lowest times, and he wasn’t proud of it.

It only ever happened in the middle of the night, when he’d been spiralling all night and was finally at rock bottom, or had lost all inhibition. He’d reach out to her. Because when you got to the end of who Chase was, when you followed the corridors of his mind and soul and _heart_ , when you got right to the very end of it all… you always found Gert. When he’d find himself at the edge of who he was, facing the darkness where he felt like if he slipped he could fall away and never return, she was always there. And she’d always answer his texts and guide him back through the darkness towards the light. Even though she shouldn’t. Even though she should hate him. Even though she _did_ hate him.

She never mentioned it the next day. She wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t interact with him, wouldn’t come up and run her hand up and down his back the way she used to when he was low. She’d let him come to her, in the dark of night, with his problems, she’d help him shoulder them, and then she’d go back to normal at school. And usually, because Chase was a complete and utter asshole, he’d be a dick to her publically the next day. He’d push her away, and he’d see that pained look in her eye and his heart would break and he’d hate himself, but it was for the best. Because he always regretted it the next day, regretted sucking her back in every time she was so close to escaping him, and he didn’t want her catching feelings for him. He’d be the worst thing that ever happened to her. _It was for the best._

But that didn’t stop him from pining. From wishing things were different. Wishing his DNA was different. If he had anyone other than _Victor Stein_ running through his veins, he’d say fuck it all and he’d walk right up to her in Spanish class and he’d kiss her hard, and declare his love for her right in front of everyone. But he _did_. Biologically speaking, he was half of his father. And Chase’s father had ruined his mother’s life. She’d never said so, but Chase knew. She had been brilliant in her own right, but Victor had sucked the life out of her, and the older he got, the meaner he got. And Chase would never let that happen to Gert.

So he’d pine, and he’d ache, and he’d admire… but all from a healthy distance. It was safer that way. And because he deserved the pain, he let himself open the folder and admire the photos as much as he wanted, which was a surprising amount. She was _beautiful._ But it wasn’t Gert’s looks he loved the most. It was her _spirit._ And Gert was great at capturing her spirit in her artistic selfies.

He’d been staring at the middle finger pic for too long when a notification popped up at the top of the screen. A video snap from Eiffel. Great. He tapped it, intending the clear the notification as fast as possible (he couldn’t stand to see the little red numbers next to his apps on his home screen), and up popped an entirely predictable video of Eiffel grinding her hips around in dance practice. Chase tapped the screen immediately, but was annoyed to find out it was a multi-snap. He started hammering on the screen to quickly tap through the rest of the sections, but accidentally hit Gert’s name when Eiffel’s snap finally ended and up popped a picture of Molly.

Gert had updated her story! He hadn’t checked for the last hour or so, she must have just done it. He smiled at the kid he used to love so much before holding his breath as the timer wound down, hoping the next would be a picture of Gert. He wasn’t disappointed. Despite already having been holding his breath, he gasped. There was no filter. She didn’t need one. The golden light of sunset was more than enough. Her lips were parted and she looked away from the camera, she was wearing a skimpy tank-top and bulky overall shorts and she just looked so _effortless. Absolutely beautiful._

Without thinking, he squeezed the buttons to screenshot, knowing he needed to save this one. This one was special. But at that exact same moment, his mother barged into his room without knocking and he jumped, dropping his phone. He realized his mistake before the phone even hit the bed. He didn’t do the trick. He’d let go too soon. The screenshot notification had already been sent. He felt like he’d been splashed with ice water as he stared down at his phone incredulously and then back at his mom, who had stopped short looking at him and his reaction in apprehension.

“Can’t you knock!?” He shouted, scrambling to pick his phone back up, as if he could somehow un-do what had already been done.

“Sorry, I was a little busy, you know, doing all your laundry for you?” She replied sarcastically, holding forward the overflowing laundry basket and dropping it on his bed. “Sort and fold this before it all wrinkles.” She added, and he nodded, a little ashamed of his reaction.

“Yeah, ok.” He replied, admittedly shortly. She narrowed her eyes in reply.

“Girl troubles?” She asked shrewdly, and he couldn’t help himself from dramatically rolling his eyes and tossing his arms.

“Mommmm!” He complained like a freaking little kid, but she’d caught him in a dramatic mood, he couldn’t help it. “I don’t want to talk about it” he added, and she held up her hands in truce.

“Alright, alright. But if you ever _do_ need to talk, you know I’m here.” She replied, turning to leave. Before she closed the door, he called out.

“Hey mom?” She peeked her head back through the door and looked at him quizzically. “Thanks.” He added, and she smiled in response and blew him a kiss. Then she turned and closed the door behind her. Chase smiled after her for a moment, but soon the warm fuzzy feeling she gave him slowly chilled until before long he was positively ice cold again. He’d screenshotted Gert’s hot selfie. _And she knew he’d done it._

He had about three strokes and five heart attacks over the course of the next minute. What was he going to do? _What was he going to do?_

He could do nothing, and wait to see what happened. Pretend nothing happened and just see if Gert would say anything. Except that option made him want to throw up. Next, he could text her right now and tell her it was an accident and not to think much of it. Lastly, he could tell her the truth. That he thought it was too beautiful to disappear forever and he had to save a copy.

He went with the second option, because he was a coward. And he always preferred to rip his band-aids off quickly. No point prolonging the pain. It felt weird to send a text to Gert at 8:15pm, it felt more _real_ than if it had been 2:30, and that felt wrong, but he forced himself to open their thread anyways. He determinedly did not read back because the last time he’d texted her, last month, he’d been especially low. And he didn’t want to see that again. And yet he hadn’t deleted it… he’d think about that later. For now, he focused on composing his text.

He started and deleted three long-winded explanations, before settling on something short and sweet. ‘ **That was an accident.** ’ No explanation. She’d know what he meant. A moment later, he saw that she’d read it and was typing back.

‘ **okay.** ’ She said in reply. Chase let out a breath.

‘ **My finger slipped.** ’ He added, because he felt like he should somehow explain.

‘ **I didn’t ask for an explanation.** ’ She replied, and Chase huffed but felt a begrudging smile pull up the corners of his lips despite his determination to keep his face fixed in a frown. He couldn’t help it, he loved her attitude.

He paused, trying to think of a reply that set the right tone. What he _wanted_ to do was flirt with her. But he couldn’t indulge that. Not before the hour of 2am at least. ‘ **okay then.** ’ He said finally, and he watched as she read the message, but the notification didn’t change, she wasn’t typing a reply. He stared at the phone for a minute or two, but nothing happened so eventually he put his phone down with a sigh and reached for his precision screwdrivers, intending to start tinkering again, when his phone buzzed, startling him.

He snatched it back up quickly and checked, _yes_ , it was another message from Gert. He didn’t know why he should be so happy about that. But he was. Until he unlocked his phone and read the text. ‘ **Did your finger also slip the other 7 times these past few weeks, too?** ’

 _Shit._ Shit! What? How? But…

That was it, he’d died. This was the death of him. He’d burst an embolism, _something._ He felt his entire body freeze up, his jaw go slack, his eyes go wide. _Had she gotten notifications every single time?_ And she didn’t say anything! He wanted to disappear, for the Earth to swallow him whole, for Doctor Doom to walk right in and blast him out of existence. He waited, panicked, but nothing happened. And somehow, that was worse than death. Because that meant he’d actually have to _deal with it._

When his silence stretched too long, Gert followed up with a ‘ **hello?** ’, and Chase literally _gulped._ How the hell was he supposed to reply to that?

‘ **new phone, who dis?** ’ he said finally, not knowing _what_ the fuck he was supposed to say.

‘ **you’re a moron.** ’ She answered, and he couldn’t help himself, he smirked.

‘ **and this is news to you?** ’

‘ **you have a point.** ’ She replied almost instantly. She was a faster texter than he was. He tried to think of a reply but before he had a chance, she added, ‘ **so your finger slipped… all 8 times?** ’ Chase sighed as he read it once, twice, three times over. In the movies, this would be the part where he came forward with his feelings, admitted to screenshotting her pics and to the love he’d held for her since they were kids. But this wasn’t a movie. This was real life. And in real life, he was a _Stein_ , and he could never in a million years be with someone as pure as Gert.

So he sucked in a breath of air through his teeth as he began to type, already cringing before he’d even hit ‘send’. ‘ **That’s more plausible than me screenshotting 8 of your pics, right?** ’ he replied, and sagged as he watched her receive the pic and start typing. But then the typing stopped, and it didn’t start again. He waited ages, probably fifteen or twenty minutes or more, just staring at his screen, tapping it to keep it alive every time it would dim as it started to time out. But a reply never came.

And Chase told himself that was for the better. _That was for the better._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it and I'd love to hear what you thought!
> 
> Also, I wanted to follow up with my personal headcanon for what changed, to let Chase get from the point he's at in this fic to the point where he's exploring his feelings for Gert and willing to let himself go down that path at the school dance.
> 
> I think when Victor started to become nice, to support Chase and help him with his projects, and then Chase found out about the brain tumour... I think he convinced himself that his dad wasn't truly evil, that his horrible temper was actually the fault of the tumour pressing against his brain, it MADE him mean, he wasn't like that by nature. It wasn't Victor's fault. And Chase could finally picture a world where he didn't eventually become the monster he so feared, and he finally decided to follow his heart. 
> 
> What do you think???


End file.
